And the Orchestra Played On
by kinseynelson
Summary: The maiden voyage of the grandest ocean liner in history reunites a long-estranged couple.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction; all characters belong to the late, great Margaret Mitchell and her heirs.

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So I admit it - I went to see Titanic 3D this weekend for the centennial anniversary of the sinking and was as blown away by it now as in 1997. With my GWTW enthusiasm undiminished as well, a story idea was born. As always, I am appreciative for any feedback I get - thank you all so very much in advance for reading and reviewing this, as well as my other published stories!

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Between the gloomy depths of the dark waterway of the Cork Harbor and the southern coastline of Ireland sat the city of Queenstown, also called Codh. The weather was cold and damp as the great vessel dropped anchor, much to the frustration of the seven passengers who held either First or Second Class tickets and had only just realized that the docks were not suitable for a ship of that size and that they were expected to board tenders, smaller vessels which would carry them out to sea and to Titanic. In the very center of the group, a solitary figure of a woman, perhaps in her late sixties or early seventies, so slight she could have been mistaken for nothing other than gaunt. Despite her apparent fragility, she was still a strikingly handsome woman. Her silvery hair was elegantly coiffed and crowned by a wide brimmed hat that had come straight out of one of London's high fashion houses and her white skin was free of the blemishes and wrinkles so common in women of a certain age. Dressed in a simple but elegant black chiffon midday, she plodded along, albeit slowly, before finally accepting the arm extended her way by a uniformed officer of the White Star Line.

He was a cheerful young man, with kin in Queenstown, he said. The Jamison's, he informed her, and asked her if she had heard of them.

Her name was Scarlett O'Hara, Baroness Chapman, and she although she did accept the escort, preferred to sit quietly in the seat which was offered. She chose not to partake in any conversation of the other passengers, and indeed, when one was struck up, she would simply close her eyes and pretend to fall asleep. In deference to her age, those seated near her would remain silent for the rest of the process.

Or so she hoped. If you had told her of the gossip-mongering being engaged in by her fellow travelers over the subject of her life - or at least, her life of the past thirty or so years - she would have laughed at the mere idea.

But the fact of the matter was that it was anything but easy for the baroness to go anywhere in Ireland unnoted. In 1876, she made the crossing from America along with her two young children. Possessed of a willful spirit, long black tresses which fell to her waist, green eyes which flashed and sparkled with vivacity, she very quickly made an impression with men of all ages. Despite the original assertion of the local gentry that "she is not our kind" and beautiful to boot, as a woman of means she was accorded every kindness and invitation in the County which her father and grandfather had been born and bred. Not one to stand on social etiquette, Mrs. O'Hara, as she was known at the time, went about as she pleased, driving her own buggy about Adamstown and to all of the social events without an escort, causing tongues to wag. She had purchased an extensive piece of property around Adamstown called Ballyhara in 1878 from Sir Benjamin Chapman, Baron of Killua Castle, and turned profit in less than a year of cultivating the rich soil; aided by the modern farming techniques she brought with her from the Southern United States, she had watched from the windows and porches of her newly constructed home on the property as a main road was constructed, bringing with it traffic from the cities and more demand for her crops and thereby, more profit and prosperity for her people.

Scarlett and her new husband, the same Baron Chapman, from whom she had made that fortuitous real estate purchase, began construction of their magnificent new home in 1880, although it was not completed until 1882. Dashing, handsome and well connected, none of London's Society Misses could persuade the widower to tie the knot for a second time, so naturally, the announcement of his marriage to an untitled American was rather shocking, to say the least. His Lordship, an officer in the 15th The King's Hussars, selected mail order plans from Charles Barry, the noted English architect. Together, they utilized local carpenters and shipbuilders to construct it for them: it was of the Victorian style with the Chippendale railings so popular in the American South and boasting intricate woodworking, and became, naturally, the most desirous place of respite for well-to-do travelers on the road to Adamstown as well as the scene of the most lavish parties outside of Dublin's high society.

Life was idyllic for the newlyweds, both married previously; that was of course, until the fateful day that an O'Hara cousin, a militant Jesuit trainee, led a riot of a thousand peasants toward the County See, burning through the English owned properties in the process as a reprisal for the perceived injustice on the part of the English government - a government which many, like Scarlett's recently retired husband, had no further interest in serving, courtesy rank aside. Unable to stand the idea of seeing property and newly built house go up in flames, Scarlett supposedly rode out a message to her cousin in person; however, upon their meeting he informed her that there was to be no stopping of the intended burnings, as she was married to the enemy and thereby, no longer under the protection of her blood kin.

And the day came when the rebels swept through the County like a raging, rumbling wind with their torches and pikes - however, as they crossed the property line between Killua and Ballyhara, they found none other than Scarlett herself, standing on the line with a shotgun in hand daring anyone to fire the first shot. The men, astonished at her courage and audacity, reported back to their leader, who implored with her to remove herself so they could get on with their mission. But of course, she would not. Well into the night she stood there, guarding her property. Eventually, the rebels relented, agreeing to sit down with Lord Chapman and negotiate a cessation of hostilities.

Word traveled as far as Dublin of Lord and Lady Chapman's role in the sudden quelling of the threat of rebellion, and the story was elaborated on until the standing version held that "that dear lady, Lord Chapman's American second wife" defended her palatial home during the riots of eighty-five while dressed in her nightgown, barefooted and carrying an old sword that had belonged to her first husband.

True story or not, it was there on that sacred soil that the Chapman's daughter, Eva Cecile, was born in 1884, and the older children of Her Ladyship came of age. Wade Hampton was a handsome and sensitive sort of man full of life, laughter, and fun. Ella, the daughter, on the other hand was a different sort altogether. She was whispered by the local folk to be able to talk to the animals of the forest and supposedly spent the nights out until daybreak, sleeping under the stars instead of a proper bed. Whether or not the rumors were true, she never entered society, and was rarely seen outside of a cursory glance or two.

With the threat of rebellion largely abated, Lord Chapman was offered a position with the Irish Jockey Club by the President, Lord Crecy; an avid horseman always, the baronet accepted. The Chapman's had lived in the new house for only a few years when Lord Chapman was summoned to Adamstown by the local magistrate early one morning to investigate a potential fraudulent entry in the upcoming Irish Derby. According to the talk from the household staff downward, Her Ladyship had become concerned when by nightfall he had not returned, nor had there been any word that he had been delayed. A search party had been formed, finding at last Lord Chapman's riderless horse charging headlong from the direction of the forest adjacent to the neighboring property line. Later that night, his body was found lying on the dirt road.

Wade Hampton Hamilton had married and moved to England shortly after the death of his stepfather while Ella stayed on to help her mother, who the commoners had dubbed 'The O'Hara', rather than Lady Chapman; it was a term of great respect, in deference to her role in aiding both the village and the rebels themselves during the time of troubles - had she not intervened, it was said, far more blood would have been spilled on both sides.

Momentarily lost in thought, Scarlett blinked twice and dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief, feeling quite certain that the rest of the passengers had been staring at her, whispering even…fiddle-dee-dee, she thought to herself, none of them have a clue who I am.

Again, the uniformed officer who had spoken before made his way over to Scarlett and offered his assistance.

"When we disembark, mum," he said, "twill be a mite bit slippery out. And cold, if you've got a wrapper."

"It's that seal-fur, in that hat box there," she said, pointing in the direction so that the young man could retrieve it for her. She had spent over ten thousand on First Class tickets for herself and her family; by God, the White Star Line crew could assist her with the more mundane tasks!

Cheerfully, he handed the box to her. "So, you've got kin in America, then?"

Scarlett shook her head. "Well, yes. But I don't have to wait until then to see them. All three of my children are aboard ship already."

"They boarded in Southampton, then?"

"No, in Cherbourg. My son and his wife and three children, and my two daughters and my son-in-law. Although, the inconvenience of being delayed by this _tugboat_ thing is trying my patience, young man."

The young crewman looked apologetic. "Well, things will look better after a good night's sleep on Titanic, ma'am, I promise you that."

"Hmmph. It had better be the best night's sleep of my life for what I'm paying for it."

"Yes ma'am," he said reassuringly, "I'm sure that it will be."

She pulled pocket-locket clock out of her wrapper and took a look at the time. An hour, at least, before she was due to board.

"Well, we have some time. Tell me something else about this ship besides the fact that it's unsinkable."

"Yes ma'am," he obliged her, and began to speak. As he did so, she took in the excitement in his eyes and heard it in his voice as he talked about his having waited in Belfast for six hours in a snowstorm in order to sign up for the skeleton crew which would test the great liner.

"All that fuss for a ship?"

"It's not any ship, ma'am," he reminded her, eyes misting, "'Tis Titantic!"

I'll be ready for a good night's sleep for sure, she mused, if I have to spend the next hour listening to this prattle.

But despite that thought, she allowed the young man to continue his speech; after all, he had probably never been on a ship, let alone one so luxurious. Let him enjoy it, she thought contentedly, snuggling into her wrapper. Her enjoyment would come from her children and grandchildren's company, both on the voyage and back home, to Tara, where they would spend the rest of the spring and then the summer.

She put a hand to her cheek and unwillingly let out a sigh, thinking without intending to do so about Rhett, wondering in spite of herself if he was still living. She hadn't meant to think of him, but he had a habit of crossing her mind from time to time- particularly, and with much more frequency, after Benjamin's death. He'd be in his eighties, if he had survived what Wade had termed in the late eighties as "absolute debauchery with the Parisian mademoiselles of the underworld".

At least he had not married again; she wouldn't have been able to stand that.

"Ma'am?" the crewman was inquiring gently. "Are you quite alright?"

She felt the hot tears that had formed at the corners of her eyes and blinked once more. "Why yes. I'm fine. Naturally. It was nothing. Nothing at all."

…

Louis Vansittart posed a striking figure: dark, wavy hair combed back from his forehead, slightly taller than average in height and broader in build and, as always, impeccably dressed in a suit with a high collar and tie. Although he looked scarcely older than forty, Louis had been born in New Orleans in 1860, and had seen the half-century mark of his life already. His mother, a Creole girl from a well-to-do family which lacked in breeding and social connection had been swept off her feet by a handsome aristocrat from the Carolina coast, although, at the time, she had thought of him as merely an explorer or adventurer. When she discovered her condition, she had sought the man's promise of marriage, which he denied vehemently, unwilling to lose his freedom for so lowborn a conquest. She had carried Louis his time, but in a fit of despair, took a voodoo mixture of abortificant herbs in the hopes of ridding herself of her disgrace. Her labor had been hastened, and Louis had been born against all odds, but had claimed her life in the process. His father had taken up his guardianship as a boy, but that aside, there was very little interaction between the two, and of that, even less was bourn out of affection.

When Rhett Butler had left Atlanta for good, following the finalization of his divorce in late 1874, he not only had left behind the memories of his embittered, doomed marriage but also an illegitimate son, Louis Simone Vansittart, who upon barely entering manhood was a renowned gambler, carouser, and womanizer of the worst possible sort.

However, the young man had cleaned up his act with little to no help from the father he had not seen in person since the age of eleven, taking a degree in finance from New York University and slaving away on Wall Street for ten long years before he had at long last attained a respectable position with the International Mercantile Marine Company, proprietary shareholders of the magnificent vessel upon which he had lately boarded.

Coincidentally, he was sharing a suite with none other than his long-estranged father, whom he had located in a Parisian rest home, half-gone on opium and perpetually drunk from the absinthe he paid the attractive young nurse handsomely to supply him with. The old man was eighty-three years old, and he looked them, in Louis's opinion. He had had a hard life, Louis knew, but he had spent the last thirty plus in perdition, drinking himself into a stupor in the high end bordellos of Paris. He had amassed quite an art collection, worth over a half a million pounds; all of it, Louis thought with some bit of satisfaction, all summarily belonged to him. Rhett's wife, after all, though she was still living, had been neither seen nor heard from since his father had fled Atlanta. There had been a note to Louis's school in New Orleans, stating simply that "I'm going now - and I wish to be left alone for awhile", which bore striking resemblance to the done which had brought Louis to Paris in the first place "I'm dying - and though I wish to do it alone, I thought that someone should be advised".

Although his business in England was pressing, Louis decided to call on the old man instead, believing that it was the right thing to do, under the circumstances.

"He has been rather despondent lately," the flaxen haired nurse addressed Louis in French.

"He's swallowed too much opium, that's what!" Louis informed her. He succeeded in convincing the attending physician, Laurent, to release his father into his care, telling the good doctor exactly what he thought of their "care".

Within two hours, Rhett had sobered up - and fairly growled at Louis that he was a "damned fool" and one who could not be trusted not to muck up a wet dream. Louis raised an eyebrow. "I suppose I should be grateful for your _expertise_, eh? Else I might not be here."

Rhett rolled his still snapping black eyes. "Shut your damned mouth."

He had remained in the hotel room at Le Ritz, refusing all nourishment but that which came from the finer restaurants. When Louis offered him soup, he wanted caviar. When the caviar was not to his liking, he desired veal.

By the week's end, Louis realized that his father's "comfort" had seen him short of nearly four thousand dollars and that he had better think of an alternative arrangement. Over dinner he was reminded of the great hubbub within his own company about the maiden voyage of the Olympic-class liner, Titanic. The first class staterooms had not yet been filled, his companion said, why not utilize your privilege as a member of the IMMC and book passage for yourself and your father - let him die at home, oui?

That had been a heaven-sent answer for Louis. Of course the old man would have to agree, wouldn't he?

No, Louis reassured himself; his wishes are immaterial. He was going to kill himself here and I have prevented that. Surely there is someone left in Charleston who can care for him…

He had been sitting up in bed when Louis entered, although he feigned sleep.

"We're going home." Louis announced unceremoniously. "I'll be packing your paintings and other belongings up tonight and we'll set sail on Wednesday. Titanic leaves Southampton that morning and she'll be in Cherbourg by nightfall."

His father's eyes shot open.

"I'm dying. I want to die and I'm going to do it, damn it."

"Well, if you have to die, why not do it in style?"

"I refuse to leave."

"Frankly, sir, I don't give a damn."

Expressing no penitence for his brusque tone, Louis stormed from the room, calling out as he left: "And I expect to be reimbursed for the sixteen hundred dollars I'll be dropping on a First Class ticket."

"I'll be dead before we leave Paris." Rhett announced.

But it was Wednesday evening, and his father was not dead. Hardly. He had looked anything but as he had gotten out of the automobile under his own power, saying that he'd be damned before he boarded the ship in an invalid's chair.

Louis was privately amused, knowing that it was the old man's first time _out_ of the chair in months, and glad to see that his father had that much pride left, at the least.

After the brief stop to embark the group of two hundred seventy-four, Louis marveled at the speed with which the vessel was made ready to depart.

"Under ninety minutes by my count," he informed Rhett, who grunted from across their private promenade deck.

"Fastest bloody ship in existence. And the biggest. Heaviest. God himself could not sink her," he continued.

"Biggest _and _heaviest?" Rhett raised his white crescent-shaped eyebrows. "And you're fool enough to believe that she cannot sink?"

"Marvels of modern engineering, sir," Louis went back to reading the literature of the ship's construction he had been perusing.

"Modern engineering, my foot. I've been a sailor longer than these so called engineers have been born, and it hardly takes a great intellect to realize that a keel this size won't corner worth a damn."

"Are you finished, sir?"

Rhett let out another incomprehensible grunt: "Quite."

There were no more words exchanged for several minutes between the two men, so very alike in appearance and disposition, though neither would admit it willingly.

"Would you like to have dinner in one of the restaurants?" Louis inquired after awhile.

Rhett shrugged. "I'm not hungry. Shouldn't you be out on deck looking for willing and attractive young ladies?"

It was Louis's turn to raise an eyebrow. "It's First Class, Rhett. And that's English First Class, not American. I'm somewhat reputable in my field now, if you'd believe it. My reputation is precarious enough without any social faux pas on my part."

"But you're an old man…you've not been married have you? Or even engaged?"

"Old? At forty-five, sir?" Louis attempted a joke. "I suppose your own age seems fairly ancient."

"I believe that there are ancient ruins younger than myself." Finally, a smile from the old man… "I should have been dead years ago. I suppose that I didn't try hard enough. I had thought that I made several good attempts."

Louis smirked. "Not the least of which your latest attempt. What was her name, Daphne, Dangerouse?"

Rhett heaved sigh. "Aphrodite. Taking pity on a rich old man by making him feel young again."

"Young? Sir, I've experienced the ill-effects of both opium and absinthe and with the steady diet you've enjoyed of late, it's a wonder that you're accompanying me on this crossing and not a pile of ashes for me to scatter in Charleston."

"Ashes to ashes. Time flies. So fleeting, isn't it? Time. I wondered, if I had returned to her sooner…"

"To?"

Rhett's eyes snapped again. "It's nothing. Nothing."


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: This is a work of fan fiction; all characters belong to the late, great Margaret Mitchell and her heirs.

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Thank you, ladies, for your kind feedback!

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Soon the coastline of Ireland was lost from sight, and the swells of the ocean, aided by a slight breeze pushed the great vessel rapidly toward its destination. The newest group of passengers had passed by the First Class public promenade deck earlier, causing much conversation and speculation. The large majority had gone down to steerage, although Louis had observed several well dressed persons in their number, who were clearly bound for Second Class, at the least.

His thoughts wandered to his father, who was making new friends to the point of necessity of curbing his social endeavors just so that he could get some respite. That damned Brown woman had talked his ear off since they had boarded in Cherbourg. Leaving the strict social life of the States behind for Europe had agreed with Rhett and Molly Brown alike, and the two had become fast friends after determining their mutual fondness for fine bourbon, cigars, and poker. Each unsuitable habits for a woman and an elderly man…but who was Louis to tell either of them such a thing?

Molly Brown was holding a hand to her head to ward off the bright sunlight, and with her free one, waved merrily to them from the other side of the deck.

"Not again," Louis pleaded.

But Rhett had already gathered his walking stick and was headed toward that creature who he found so very "fascinating".

Hmmph. Louis knew full well that what he had found so "fascinating" was her marital history. The "genteel" separation between herself and her millionaire husband, whom she had married for love but had grown bored with over the years - but which was also predicated upon mutual respect and affection, if not love. And _that_, Rhett found fascinating.

As if he had a chance to do it all over again for himself.

Her eyes sparkling, Molly Brown held out her hand in greeting. "You know, Louis, I felt mighty bad about keeping this old fellow out all night while you cooled your heels back in your room."

"No need to apologize, Mrs. Brown. I was exhausted from my recent travels."

She looked unconvinced. "Well, just so you know that there is always a place at the table for you." Losing interest in him, she returned her attention to his father, who was brandishing his walking stick like a dandy. "And how are you this morning, you big tease, you?"

Rhett laughed out loud. "Dazzled by your beauty, madam, as always."

"Oh go on. Where did you pick him up, Louis? He's a trip, this one. I've never kissed an older man before, Mr. Butler, but I'm mighty tempted."

"Well," he said with a perfectly straight face, "I've not yet kissed a married woman; however, there is a first time for everything, is there not?"

"He's a pistol, isn't he, Louis? But he won't tell me why he never got married again. Sure won't. My boy sure as shit wouldn't mess around marrying the next best thing if his own failed."

Louis had to admit that his respect and admiration for Molly Brown grew by the end of the first day at sea. Not only did she take the First Class Dining Saloon by storm with her witty banter and stimulating conversation, she had taken it upon herself to do what he could not: make his father laugh again. Damnation, he looked better than he had in that rest home!

Satisfied that Molly had him under control for the time being, Louis retreated into the dark, cool interior of the ship to meet his friend Thomas Andrews for a delicious lunch at the a la carte restaurant and a vivid, detailed description of the ship his company had financed and the other man had built from the keel up. He found him puffing a cigar and rocking his crossed leg back and forth. At seeing Louis, Andrews stood up and extended a hand in warm welcome. He then rolled out the blueprints for Louis to peruse, which he promised to pass along to his father.

"You'll have to remind me of his interest in shipbuilding…"

Louis obliged. "He ran IMMC for years before it was IMMC."

"You mean, of course, before Morgan?"

"Yes. Morgan wanted to monopolize the trade, though. Rhett and his business partner, Ravenel, helped to invent submersible boats during the Civil War. They would help sink Union ironclads by day, and by night, Rhett would run the blockades with his own little schooners."

Andrews whistled appreciatively. "Remarkable."

"Isn't it?"

After lunch, the two men headed toward the bridge, taking a detour to the promenade to ensure that Mrs. Brown was still occupying Rhett's attention. On the way, they stopped for a few minutes to greet J. Bruce Ismay, the White Star Line's managing director.

"This is Mr. Louis Vansittart," Andrews said, "he is Mr. Morgan's man-on-the-ground in the IMMC in Europe."

"Mr. Vansittart, of course," Ismay shook his hand, then exchanged a private word with Andrews and carried on toward the Dining Saloon.

"Headlines, headlines," Andrews explained. "You see, at the time, the cost was rather low on the agenda when they first commissioned us to build her. Cunard has just launched comparable vessels, you see…in speed, at least. We have her two sister ships beaten in size. Fifty-three meters from keel to funnel, as he asked for."

"I take it he's displeased now that the job is finished?"

"Not displeased, exactly. He's irked that the coal industry chose our maiden voyage to go on strike. Many First Class passengers delayed their passages, see? Lost him a good deal of money and press."

"Astor and Guggenheim managed to make it, didn't they?"

Andrews rolled his eyes, chuckling, "And you as well."

Louis nodded. "Me as well. I had forgotten all about it, to be frank. I was supposed to be in England by tomorrow for a Maritime Safety Restrictions meeting with Parliament; so unfortunately, so I'll be a good three weeks behind in work when I return."

Andrews laughed robustly. "Well, we're happy you're here. Hopefully you'll deliver Mr. Morgan a good progress report while you're in New York."

"Certainly, if I make it to the office. I have the old man with me and he'll need to land somewhere…I must say though, Andrews, we're both of us taken aback by the enormity of the vessel. Could she turn if we ran into a berg?"

"An iceberg? Certainly. She's full-stop tested at three minutes and fifteen seconds. More than adequate in the event of a crash stop."

Andrews then explained that Titanic's turning ability had already been tested in the Belfast Lough, her engines reversed full ahead to full astern, bringing her to a stop in under 800 meters.

Saying, "That seems impossible, I'm sure," he stopped to look around, becoming speechless at the enormity of his undertaking, as if to reassure himself that it had indeed been welded into solid reality.

"You've done well, my friend," Louis said. "I only hope that you gain the recognition you're due for your part in the construction, and that our friend Mr. Ismay doesn't hog all of the glory in the press."

Andrews said modestly. "No, no, he's welcome to handle the press. I'm the head of the drafting department now, and that's recognition enough for me. And when I return from the crossing, I'll finally be able to spend some time with my wife and daughter. You're welcome to stop over any time you're in Belfast."

"I thank you for that, Thomas. And I congratulate you on your achievement, I truly do."

"Thank you, Louis."

Spying Rhett across the deck, Louis noted that he was surrounded by not only Mrs. Brown, but several other high society ladies; Helen Candee the writer and Dorothy Gibson the film actress, he recognized straightaway.

"That's Rhett, just there."

"I can see the resemblance."

"I do hope that it's only surface-deep."

"Ha! Well he certainly seems to be making a stir with the ladies."

"He always has. I supposed incorrectly that he would have mellowed out by the age of eighty-three…I suppose not."

"Men of action seldom-" Andrews paused as he spied a group of well-dressed ladies walking toward him, "Excuse me, Louis, I must greet -Lady Chapman!"

The oldest of the ladies stood straight and tall without assistance of either of the younger ones. Nary a line marked her magnolia white face, framed perfectly by dark silvery hair.

The girl on her right, obviously a blood relative, was petite and dark-haired and young looking. The woman at her left was smartly dressed, in a simple tailored suit which subtly accented the curves of her figure. Although none of the three were beautiful in the classic sense, Louis couldn't help but to be enraptured by their presence. And none of them had yet spoken!

"Mr. Andrews," the senior of the ladies spoke, her familiar Southern accent enveloping Louis like a familiar warm cloak. "What a pleasure to see you again. I do declare I thought not to see you at all this entire crossing, busy as you were with all the fuss."

"Not a chance of that, Lady Chapman. And Miss Chapman, a pleasure to see you again. Belfast is rather dreary without the presence of yourself."

Louis thought that Andrews' Irish brogue was substantially increased along with the blush of his cheeks as he shook the hand of Miss Chapman, the younger miss.

"Sir, you're too kind, as always." she smiled. "I've been studying in Paris and I've missed Ireland and all of my friends from Belfast terribly. But do you know my sister, Ella Kennedy Connell?"

Andrews shook the other woman's outstretched hand, "Thomas Andrews. I am familiar with both your mother and sister, Mrs. Connell."

"From every charity event under the sun, I'm sure," Mrs. Connell replied. Louis blinked, taking in her extraordinary blue eyes and full red lips. "Are you going to stare all day in lieu of an introduction?"

Lady Chapman hadn't noticed him before, but Louis could feel the full weight of her gaze on him. Abashed, Andrews hastily intervened, "This is Louis Vansittart, one of Mr. Morgan's attaches in Europe and an old acquaintance. He's traveling with his father."

"Oh?"

Louis thought that Lady Chapman's nose wrinkled as she took account of his appearance. It was odd; the lady was staring at him as if she had known him all her life.

Her voice sultry but now unsteady, she said, "If I might hazard a guess, I would suspect that your father was someone named Butler."

"You are correct, madam," he replied, slightly befuddled by her perception. "In fact, he's just there, at the opposite end of the deck surrounded by that group of ladies. I take it the two of you are acquainted."

Her left hand began to shake slightly and Mrs. Connell moved to steady her. "We were. Once."

"Let's return to the stateroom, Mama," Miss Chapman said, taking her mother's arm. "Good day, Mr. Andrews. Sir," she addressed Louis, then continued along with her mother and sister the short distance to the first class cabins.

"I say," Louis addressed Andrews after they had departed. "Was that terribly strained and awkward, or was it just me?"

Andrews nodded in agreement. "That was the Baroness of Killua and her daughters. They're Americans, as you can tell, but she's something of a folk hero in Ireland. I've never seen her so shaken…far from it…she's normally quite placid."

"I'll ask Rhett about it. I didn't think that he'd been to Ireland, but the Lord only knows." Looking quizzically back at his elderly father, roaring with mirth in the center of the much younger group of ladies, he shrugged, figuring that the matter could wait until the evening's dinner.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: The usual one applies -this is a work of fan fiction; all characters belong to the late, great Margaret Mitchell and her heirs. I don't think that I need to credit Jim Cameron since Jack and Rose most likely won't make an appearance! ;) But in the event that I inadvertently borrow something from the film _Titanic_ - Mr. Cameron - please don't sue me.

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Reviews make my heart swell with joy … so thank you, for all of the kind words! Enjoy!

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"Well, I've lost completely the feel of being aboard ship. Truly, Mama, it's closer to a hall of some great house on shore," Eva prattled as the three women entered B Deck, and rounded the long corridor to their staterooms.

"I must admit myself to be amazed by the detail and thought that has gone into her design. The ornamental cathedral glass in the restaurant, the grand staircase, hot and cold running water in our staterooms…a heated swimming pool! What have I missed?"

"The dumbwaiters connecting all the floors and the system for ringing stewards and the electric lights -"

"Electric lights, oh come now, Eva…They've had electric lights on passenger liners for years. How else would you expect to see?"

"Candlelight?" the younger of the two ladies shrugged, cocking her head and smiling at their mother, who had been silent since their encounter with Mr. Andrews and his acquaintance. "Mama? Are you alright?"

Scarlett replied, "Fine. I'm quite well. Just a bit tired."

"Well, get some rest. We've decided to dine in the Grand Saloon tonight with our friends, the Duff-Gordon's."

Ella guffawed, "You do mean _your_ friends, the Duff-Gordon's, do you not?"

"They like you, Ella. They're acquainted with David."

"You just know everyone, don't you, Sis? Tell me Eva Cecile, how are you acquainted with the Mr. Andrews we have just met?"

"I met him in Belfast at a gala for the benefit of the workingmen there. I was introduced to Mr. Andrews and his _wife_ by his uncle, the owner of Harland and Wolff, the company responsible for the creation of this very ship. Mama was there too, weren't you, Mama?"

Scarlett only nodded in agreement, but Ella continued. "And then there was his companion. Completely crass in his staring, was he not?"

"He was clearly smitten."

"That's a lie and you know it. He was rude and uncouth and…Mother? Did you mean to infer that he is kin of Rhett's?"

"I didn't infer, dear. I merely spoke the truth."

"That was not a trick question, Mother. I was asking you…"

"Well, yes. To answer your poorly worded question, yes. He is kin to Rhett."

"Rhett? As in, your former husband?" Eva queried, "But surely he's not still living…wouldn't he be quite old?"

"Eighty-four next month, if my memory holds out."

"And this man, this Louis Whatever-his-name-was, he is his _son_?"

"All signs point to yes, dear."

"Well no wonder you looked as if you'd seen a ghost. You had."

"Indeed. I might have known that he'd attempt to book passage on the same ship just to spite me."

"Mother, it's been years since you've laid eyes on the man - I very much doubt that he did it to spite you," Ella reminded her gently. "Besides, at his age, I should hardly imagine that he'll make many social appearances. And even if he does, I doubt that you'll be running in the same circles…"

"Why ever not, dear? If I am not mistaken, the only thing I have in common with people like the Astor's and the Strauss's is money, and he certainly has plenty of that."

"Even still, his age and infirmities…"

"Age and infirmity, my foot. It's Rhett. He's never done things as anyone else does them. Now if you'll both excuse me for a moment, I need a bit of time to myself before we begin dressing for dinner."

"But where am I supposed to go-" Eva began to protest but was cut off by Ella.

Her sister said, "I think that I left my gloves on that deck chair."

After the door to their mother's stateroom shut behind her, Eva addressed her sister, "What was that all about? I know full well that you weren't wearing any gloves."

"Mother's going to be a fit to be tied tonight, and I should imagine that you've never seen her in such a state."

"A state? How do you mean?"

"I mean that she'll become very emotional, quick-tempered-"

"Not at all usual for her," Eva said sarcastically.

Ella laughed hollowly. "You'll see what I mean later. But whatever you do, do not allow her more than one glass of champagne at dinner at the most. No additional nightcaps."

"I cannot chaperone Mama as if she were a child!"

"Believe me, it'll be far better for us all if you behave exactly that way. We must avoid Rhett and that dreadful son of his at all costs. One of us will have to eat alone, to make certain that Mother does not inadvertently run into him. It would be a complete disaster and like you, I wish this to be a pleasant trip. I cannot endure any more family…drama."

Eva looked slightly sympathetic. "I know that Alicia and the girls weigh on your nerves…but we rarely see Wade and his family, so do make an effort to be pleasant."

"I am pleasant. Or as much as I can be with three whining, snotty teenaged girls floating about. You're young and pretty so they admire you, smile prettily your way so that you might introduce them to eligible gentlemen. Their old, homely married aunt has precious little advantage to offer…"

"That's not fair, Ella. And you do yourself a disservice by denigrating your beauty, which you know surpasses my own. Why, that man today could barely keep his eyes off of you."

"I highly doubt that, but I do appreciate your kindness. You've always been sweet."

"I'm being quite honest, you stubborn thing! But back to Mama, I've always known about Rhett. I mean, I had known about him from talks with Wade long ago. He had just returned from Paris and he told me that he had much rather spend time at the Paris bordellos and cavorting with artists and bohemians than taking care of his business interests. And that's where Mr. Andrews comes in, I'm sure, if the son has anything to do with that…a steel related business, I believe. Perhaps they are all business associates."

"Not quite steel. He invented some shipping technology during the war, if I'm not mistaken. Some sort of engineering feat which made him wealthy enough to never work again in his life. Although, he did own stock in a bank in Atlanta before the crash…I always suspected, you know…oh, never mind, it's all water under the bridge now. His actions of the past thirty years should not concern me. Do not concern me. But by the by, did I hear your friend Andrews correctly when he said that Vansittart worked for Mr. Morgan's company?"

"Aha! So you _did _hear his name, after all, liar. And yes, I did hear him say that. Who is Mr. Morgan?"

"I assume he means Mr. John Pierpoint Morgan, the financier. He controls the Atlantic shipping combine, International Marine Mercantile Company."

"Good Lord, what a mouthful."

"Indeed. Well, the White Star Line is a subsidiary of that organization, so in a way, Morgan is the ultimate owner of this fine ship."

"And Vansittart is the son of Mother's former husband, who preceded Morgan in business interests. My, my what a tangled web."

"Isn't it though? It is fascinating, though. David told me a story about Mr. Morgan which set me in stitches - oh but we were just married…"

"And? Ella..? You were saying…"

"It was not very amusing when I thought on it."

"Ella?"

"Yes, Eva?"

"What is afoot with you and David? I know something is amiss when your husband passes up a chance to travel in such high style for free."

A wry smile appeared on her face. "Yes, his Scottish roots do define him aptly, do they not? Well, it's just as well that you know. David and I are separating. Permanently, this time. In a few years, we'll petition the courts for a divorce. We'd address it sooner, but he wishes to wait for his father to pass…"

"Oh Ella, no!"

"Please, do not force me to speak of it. And for God's sake, don't mention it to Mother or Wade or Alicia. I have no desire to relive the unpleasantness, and before God, I am putting it gently."

"Was he…unkind?"

"He is a pig. And that is all I shall say. But Mother cannot know, particularly in light of the news that Rhett is aboard. She would undoubtedly connect the two scenarios and feel as if my failed marriage is somehow a fault of hers-"

"She wouldn't-"

"But she would, and I would never wish to burden her with such feelings of guilt."

Arriving back at the glass doors of the Dining Saloon, Ella and Eva found their brother admiring the craftsmanship of the crown molding, and expressing as much to his two older, and very bored looking daughters.

Bless their brother's heart, they both thought at the same moment: not only was he forced to contend with the woman they and their mother all called "The Dragon" armed with only his genteel smile against her heart and hand of steel, but he had to do it while also managing a vast business empire, buying and selling real estate and holding mortgages. He also was a skilled pianist and an amateur historian, both of which were splendid accomplishments in his sisters' eyes, despite his wife's dismissal of music and art and all things cultured as empty, frivolous hobbies ill-befitting a gentleman. He also owned Montchanin Plantation near Savannah, a three-story tabby mansion famous across the South for its gardens and fine racehorses.

And that was the family's _winter_ home. The Lord only knew what their turreted castle in upstate New York was like.

Coming upon them, both sisters were taken aback by the brusque manner in which their two nieces, aged sixteen and fifteen, respectively, addressed their own father.

"But I'm hungry _now_!" Juliet protested. "I don't understand why the Saloon is closed and it's not yet lunchtime!"

"Just because you failed to wake up at a decent hour this morning, pet…" Wade was attempting to soothe her with his gentle voice.

"Well of course the little piggy is hungry. Look at the size of her derrière, that should be a good indicator of her constant gluttony."

"Scarlett Anne Hamilton, keep a civil tongue, won't you - oh - hello, ladies! Girls, greet your aunts, please."

Scarlett Anne raised herself to her full height and graced Eva with a glorious smile. "Auntie Eva, won't you please help me dress for dinner tonight? I have a dozen new gowns and I am quite at a loss for which one to choose."

"You have not a dozen!" Juliet protested, "Not in the least - when you know full well that half of them belong to me!"

Settling the dilemma quickly, Eva said, "Let Scarlett Anne have her pick of the gowns, and you may select any piece of my jewelry you would like to borrow for the evening."

Triumphant, Juliet looked as if she was fighting hard not to stick her tongue out in victory. Wade only shook his head. "Well, it seems that we're dining with Colonel Gracie tonight. You recall him, don't you, Ella? From Alabama? We consulted on our small encyclopedic offering concerning the Battle of Chickamauga and we're both members of the Sons of Confederate Veterans. His own father died in Chickamauga, as a matter of fact."

"Well, I doubt he knows more about the subject than you-" Ella began.

Eva interjected, "But we've made plans to eat with the Duff-Gordon's. I must speak to Miss Lucy about my bridesmaids gowns-"

"I want to eat with Aunt Eva and Lady Lucy, Daddy," Scarlett Anne said crossly.

"And me as well," Juliet interjected.

"You will not. You're much too young. Daddy, forbid it - you must!"

"I must do nothing, and you, Juliet, must ask your mother. I would give you permission at my own peril." Again, he winked at Ella. "Well, would you like to join the Colonel and I at the a la carte café? I'm sure that Alicia will wish to dine with the Duff-Gordon's as well…"

"I would love to," Ella said, "…but what shall we do with Mother?"

"Well, Mother has loads of acquaintances -"

"Yes but no friends. That and…" she looked pointedly at the two girls, who were listening interestedly to their conversation.

"Run away, princesses, do." Wade smiled indulgently down at the two female versions of himself, albeit with their mother's white-blonde hair. "Find your mother and your sister and tell her to return for high tea. And tell her that…" he lowered his voice considerably and addressed Scarlett Anne, who had a better head for gossip, "that I made her excuses to Mrs. Brown, but the next time she wishes to feign a headache, she'll have to pen a note herself."

"But Daddy! That woman is vulgar. Why, just today I saw her _smoking_ on the boat deck. Imagine!"

"Nevertheless, we must be polite and your mother is downright rude to the woman."

After he had conveyed the point to Scarlett Anne and the two girls had retreated back toward their stateroom, he cocked his head and smiled at his sisters, saying, "Of course, Alicia's comfort is my utmost concern, but you know how she is…"

"We certainly do," Ella interrupted him, "…but right now, we must tell you something. You will never guess who is sharing passage with us…"

…

The a la carte café was awash in every color gown imaginable. The haut couture was all about light, sensual colors for the spring, each of which were represented.

"Would you be so good as to explain to me the difference between Wedgewood Blue, Kingfisher, and Eau De Nile?" Wade whispered to Ella.

"Well," she obliged, laughing, "Eau De Nile is that pale yellow-green color over there - see, that Mrs. Glaser is wearing?"

"Ghastly" was Wade's clipped response. "And what are you wearing?"

"Cambridge blue. Eva tells me that it is similar to Camille Clifford's…I had it sent over from Monsieur Paquin's fashion house in Paris"

"I wouldn't be able to tell you the difference between the two if you paid me."

Playfully, she smacked his arm. "It's much a lighter blue, silly. I must be forced to assume that you are completely blind to color."

"Do not be too judgmental, Madam. Blindness to color does occur, on occasion. Ask any physician, ask David, for that matter - he'll tell you that it is a medical condition, without a doubt!"

Arriving at the table set for six which Colonel Archibald Gracie had held for them, brother and sister were met by the Colonel himself, who was chatting away with a white haired gentleman dressed impeccably in the French style, long coat-tails and a red silk handkerchief accenting his breast pocket.

"I was a blockade runner for the Confederate Army during the war," the elder was saying without turning his gaze from the fascinated Colonel. "I was born and bred in Charleston, so I could navigate all the creeks and rivers, even in the dark."

"Sweet Lord," Ella murmured low under her breath. "It's Rhett."

Without much awkwardness in the introductions, Ella allowed her former stepfather to kiss her hand as Wade introduced her as Mrs. Connell, the wife of the renowned surgeon David U. Connell, of London's General Hospital

"So, you live in London then, Mrs. Connell?" Rhett asked in turn.

Ella replied. "Most of the time; sometimes I play chaperon to my younger sister Eva in Paris. She's engaged now, though, so I am not needed nearly so often…in fact, lately I've called Mother's estate my home. My husband is terribly busy with his patients and I am often alone and Mother enjoys the company."

"Your Mother has an estate? Aside from the infamous White Elephant, I mean?"

Wade thought that his sister looked slightly triumphant when she said that yes, their mother and her late _husband_, the Baron of Killua, had a fine place up in in County Wexford, and perhaps he had heard the lore about their mother single-handedly saving Ireland from open rebellion.

Rhett's reply was neutral, stating that: "After the Yankees, the Irish should be easy for her to handle."

At that moment, Louis Vansittart made his entrance, taking the seat directly across from Ella.

"I do hope you will forgive me, gentlemen, Mrs. Connell. I was delayed in the telegraph office."

Colonel Gracie pooh-poohed him, and urged him to place his order so that they could return back to the subject which consumed most of his study and free leisure time: the American Civil War. A descendent of the wealthy Scottish-American architect, Gracie had been born in Mobile, Alabama in 1859, nearly three years before Wade, and two years prior to the war's beginning. Ella listened closely, finding it all fascinating, particularly in light of her own father's service in the Confederate Army.

"And the plantations that produced cotton are still standing along the rivers that helped them grow their cash crop," Gracie was saying, "…you know, of course, that they planted almost every available acre-"

"Of course," Ella spoke up, pleased by that the conversation had taken such a familiar turn, "That is why, in 1858, Senator Hammond declared on the Floor: _You dare not make war on cotton! No power on earth dares to make war on cotton! Indeed sirs, Cotton is King!_"

"That was rather short-sighted of him, was it not?" Vansittart said, stroking his chin.

"Gracie and I differ on this point," Wade interjected, "I say that it seems that the system was working for all until the politicians got concerned about the slaves."

"And I say that it was not about slavery at all!" Gracie's voice filled with excitement at the prospect of a debate. "Tell us, Mr. Butler, as the sole Confederate veteran amongst us - tell us what it was _you_ were fighting for."

Ella thought that she detected a momentary flicker of emotion in the old man's dark eyes, then it dulled. He blinked, cleared his throat, and reached for his glass of champagne. Taking a sip, he spoke hollowly. "Whatever the reason, it's behind me now. I was at Franklin, and what I saw was enough blood shed amongst the men in my battalion to last me this life and the next, from now till eternity. On our own soil and by our own hands. And if there is a God in that vast sky above, He will not allow it to happen again."

"Amen to that," Gracie affirmed, fearing that he had upset the elder by drawing out potentially painful wartime memories.

"I need to retire. Forgive me," Rhett stood up slowly. "Good evening, Gracie. Mr. Hamilton, Mrs. Connell. Perhaps I will meet with you another time while we share the same address here on the R.M.S. Titanic."

"Dinner, perhaps, tomorrow?" Wade questioned.

Rhett nodded in the affirmative. "I would like that. And I would very much like to meet your children."

"And my wife and three girls would be delighted," Wade said genially.

"Would you like me to walk with you back to your cabin?" Ella asked.

Rhett shook his head, "Thank you, but no. Please, enjoy your meals. Good evening."

He bowed quickly, hurrying to get away from the table before Louis too decided that he needed an escort. He could hardly keep his balance on the staircase and he could tell by the concerned looks on Ella and Wade's faces that they were anxious about him walking back to his stateroom by himself. Well, all he could offer in response was that he didn't have to walk far.

When he reached the long corridor, he proceeded at what was, for him, a high rate of speed. He had no choice but to hunker down in his cabin, miserable in his own world, the memories eating away at his very soul. Oh, it was cruel that he had to see his stepchildren, be given tantalizing glimpses into their adult lives and their spouses and children. Lives which he had missed. By choice, old man, he reminded himself.

He turned around, hearing with his still sensitive ears the sound of a high, throaty laugh.

A laugh which he knew very well, no matter how hold he had tried to forget it.

Heart hammering, his eyes beheld a vision in a pale yellow dress, low cut in a tight silhouette as was the fashion, dark curls forming tendrils round her pretty face and bright green eyes.

Scarlett's daughter; it had to be.

"Well I hate to disappoint you, Mr. Noyles, but I've just eaten a large meal and intend upon walking it off. It would be a pity for me to detain you, when I know that you'll miss precious time in the Smoking Room with the other gentlemen."

Rhett stifled a giggle as the young stud pondered upon her words and realized the truth in them; of course, he was not discouraged in the slightest and would undoubtedly call upon the lady again - her disinterest had been that subtle.

When he had gone, she turned to the lady whose back had been to her.

"I don't think he even noticed, Mama! How clever you are!"

"Didn't I tell you? I tell you, men never change. Silly creatures all of them."

Her eyes flashed as she met Rhett's. She had spotted him.

Advancing on him, she said softly and without accusation, "Why Captain Butler. I had heard that you were aboard."

He took her outstretched and drew it to his lips, aware of how old she must think him. Well, she had aged too, albeit gracefully.

"I understand that you have a new title - I hope you will forgive an old man for not recalling it."

"Baroness Chapman," she said, with not a little pride. "And my daughter, Eva Cecile. Eva, this is Captain Rhett Butler."

"Charmed," the younger version of Scarlett said. "Would you like me to return to the stateroom, Mother?"

"No, no. There is nothing pressing which Captain Butler and I have to say to one another, is there?"

That hard impassive stare cut him to the quick. But he could discern challenge lurking in their emerald depths, which almost tempted him to spar with her, for old times' sake.

"No, nothing pressing at all, Baroness."

She fanned herself with an ostrich-feather fan.

"Come, Eva. Good evening to you, Rhett."

Something in him sparked at her retreating figure - something left of the old blockade runner, that glutton for the punishment that she had inflicted upon him for so many years, his only sin being that of loving her to the point of insanity. And the way she spoke his name, with cool civility reserved for complete strangers…and enemies.

He was an old man now, and she was not his enemy. Not anymore.

"Lady Chapman?"

He spoke without thinking and she returned her attention to him.

"Perhaps you would be agreeable to a stroll on the Boat Deck tomorrow? Around eleven, say?"

The challenge was offered.

Impassively she said, "I am agreeable. I will meet you at the Grand Staircase at eleven. If Mr. Vansittart will allow you off the leash at that time."

Rhett smarted at her comment. She was a capricious thing - time hadn't changed that. And her spirit was clearly undiminished. As for him, sweat was running down his back in rivulets. He knew better than to open those old wounds…but perhaps fate had dealt him a unique opportunity, to bury the past forever.


	4. Chapter 4

As always, thank you so much for reading and reviewing - I'm in the midst of Finals Week and I have two papers to finish up in winding down my MTS degree - in an example of procrastination par excellence, I wrote this chapter on the eve of the due date of the first paper. Alright; here I go!

* Regarding the timeline of Titanic events - 10 April, the ship leaves Southampton, 11 April we leave Ireland, 14 April we run into an iceberg, 15 April Titanic is on the bottom of the Atlantic. So, we are looking at, literally, a few days - that being said, THANK YOU for reading and reviewing! *

* * *

The rest of Scarlett's evening spun by in a kaleidoscope of music, food, and drink, without incident until almost midnight when the call from Mrs. Brown stirred her from her musings.

"Baroness?" Mrs. Brown asked loudly enough for the entire table to hear her, "Say, somebody told me that you were married to our dear Captain Butler before the Baron. Would you put that rumor to rest for us?"

A flurried murmur arose, and Scarlett could feel her cheeks flush.

Fortunately, Eva was able to put and end to the matter, snapping her fingers for the waiter to bring more champagne for the table and then informing Mrs. Brown and the rest that she and her mother should like to retire.

"Never, in almost forty years," Scarlett said as she and her daughter departed, "has the subject been broached. Oh, I wish that I hadn't agreed to speak with him…"

The next day dawned with dark clouds lurking in the horizon, and Eva Chapman awoke with a sense of heavy foreboding, of something amiss in the very air about her. It made little sense to her, since her evening had concluded very pleasantly indeed. She and her mother had donned their furs taken a final stroll about the Promenade Deck. Hands tapping restlessly on the railing, her mother began to talk about Rhett in earnest, a topic which she had only skirted around in the past.

"And then he went off to Charleston and abandoned me," she said, making a moue with her chattering lips.

"But he came back, didn't he?"

"In a manner of speaking. When he returned, he brought with him a rather famous actress, a Miss Nellie Van Dyke from Philadelphia." Scarlett spat out the name with fresh intensity, as if she were reliving the offense in the present day. "Well, he put her up at the National and spent the nights there. Although, he showed up at my home in a deplorable state of intoxication that last night, completely out of his head. His brother and sole surviving nephew had been involved in some sort of tragic sailing accident. The boy was gone, of course, but his brother Ross was lingering in and out of consciousness. Still, Rhett had assumed that he would recover. Well, he did not. And I found out later that Rhett had only just returned from Ross's funeral. The very last of the Butler blood was gone with him."

"Well what about this Vansittart fellow?"

"I had never heard Rhett acknowledge him before this voyage. Well, that's not quite accurate - he did mention a boy in New Orleans - well, I suppose I paid him no heed at the time. Ella had just been born and I…well…I…"

"Mama, please. Don't make yourself sad, I beg you. And if your meeting with him tomorrow will cause you more pain than pleasure, then I would gladly send Mr. Butler a note of excuse for you."

"If I don't see him tomorrow, I'll see him elsewhere, no doubt. After all, we're aboard a ship. There are only so many places…and I will not sit in my cabin like a coward simply because Rhett is here as well."

"But you do not have to converse privately with him."

"I realize that, but I think it better to get it over and done with early. When do we arrive in New York, Wednesday morning?"

Eva nodded. "Yes. Although, I heard one of the gentlemen sitting next to Mr. Noyles say that we were making such good headway, we could very well arrive by Tuesday night."

"I certainly hope not. Our train doesn't leave until Thursday and the last thing I'd want is to stay at the Dragon's Keep until then."

Eva laughed, "Do you think Alicia would consent to hosting all of us?"

"I rather doubt it. Although, I noticed that she had nothing to say about me fronting the cost of this little _voyage_. Not that I'm not happy to do it, of course. I would simply think that she would like to exhibit some gratitude once in awhile."

"Alicia? Never."

"At least I wasn't expected to purchase Scarlett Anne's new gowns. Have you seen them yet? I saw an invoice from Lucille for _two thousand_ pounds. A further five thousand for shoes, jewelry, accessories for both older girls and for the Dragon herself. I don't know how Wade is able to put by a penny at all the way Alicia squanders it…"

They heard the band start the last waltz of the evening, signaling the closure of the Dining Saloon, and Eva and Scarlett had returned to their cabin, the discomfiting subject of Rhett Butler forgotten.

Yes, it had been a very nice evening indeed, and it would be a nice morning if the dark clouds were not hovering over the sun like a hangover after a previous evening.

"Oh well," Eva muttered to herself as she stepped out of bed and rang for Fredericka, her German maid, to attend her. "I will just have to shake it off."

Entering her private promenade deck, Eva crossed over to the window and after several attempts, called the steward to open it, allowing the salty morning breeze to enter.

"Much nicer," Eva declared, then called for Fredericka to bring her warmer dressing gown. "And a mirror," she continued. "I would like you to brush my hair in here, please."

As she did so, her mother walked in and dropped down into the rattan chair facing her. She was already dressed in a grey-blue silk, the color of waves, although her hair was still in the side braid she wore to bed.

"I had the same idea," her mother spoke, slowly shaking her head. "I could barely sleep last night."

"Mama-"

"No, no. I want to get it over and done with. If I speak with him now, I shan't have to speak to him for the remainder of the voyage…Wade has probably asked him to dinner, which is certainly fine, so long as they dine in the Parisian café rather than the Dining Saloon. Alicia can be counted upon, for that at the least…"

The weather was beginning to warm up a bit due to the southeasterly breeze, and the two ladies, dressed for the day, made the small sojourn to the Dining Saloon and the breakfast the delicious aromas had heralded as far back as their stateroom. As they entered through the swinging glass doors, it took only seconds for their eyes to adjust to the dim interior, the clouds having blocked the sun and consequently, the natural light which would be expected to filter through the great glass windows. The band was playing, as usual. The crowd was also the normal mix of First Class patrons lingering on for a leisurely meal before their next shipboard destination. A showdown between Mrs. Molly Brown and the Countess of Rothes was going on at one of the tables in the back corner and neither the Countess nor Mrs. Madeline Astor looked particularly happy. Trouble could be forthcoming, Eva whispered to her mother discreetly.

"No," Scarlett replied softly, eyes peeled. "No, see how Mr. Astor has an eye on the situation? He'll ask Mrs. Astor to stroll and the Countess will follow and then…"

Eva knew what she meant; Mrs. Brown would inevitably find her way over to their table and her mother was not about to have that.

Threading their way through the crowd, they reached a table on the opposite side of the room, in a front corner where they could talk privately and watch the action, one of their favorite pastimes of past evenings and breakfasts alike.

"Champagne, please," Scarlett hailed a waiter and ordered, to which Eva responded, "Mama, really?"

"I certainly must."

"Mother!"

"Don't _mother_ me, Eva Cecile."

Dispensing of the hastily ordered first glass in an unusually quick manner, she called for another to sip more slowly as she sat, nervously drumming her fingers against the table and fiddling with a stray thread in the sash of her dress.

"I should have worn the green, perhaps."

"You look lovely, Mama, truly."

"You're a very good liar, my love. Now, I want you to find Alicia and see where we are dining tonight and what colors she and the girls will be in so that we may dress accordingly…and for Heaven's sake, tell her to arrive early so that we may avoid that vulgar Brown woman!"

After enjoying a repast of palate-pleasing fare, and excited by the prospect of the evening's dinner, Eva bid her mother good morning and headed toward Wade's family's stateroom for some much needed discussion of the night's attire.

Sitting alone at last, Scarlett observed the retreating back of her youngest with an unusual mixture of emotions. This would be the last voyage before her wedding; the next one, she would be Mrs. Henry de Rothschild, not Eva Chapman. Moreover, this would be only the second time she would actually return to Georgia on a trip, other than to Will's funeral, since she had moved to Ireland after the divorce.

She had set sail then under a cloud of sadness - and now, although she grieved for the loss of her youth and beauty, she could rejoice in her children and grandchildren. That was something to be grateful for, at the least.

"Baroness Chapman, I presume?"

Her musing came to a halt as she very quickly turned her head in the direction of the slightly hoarse voice.

He was outfitted in a grey suit and a stiffly starched white shirt and a thin tie.

"Please, stay seated," he said, taking the chair Eva had abandoned. "Well, Scarlett, I'm happy to see that your eyes haven't changed."

"Do one's eyes normally change?" she responded, slightly put off by his observation and irritated that it was the first thing out of his mouth. Would it have killed him to say how fine she looked, how pleased he was to see her?

"You miss my point, my dear. What I meant was that although you've made a change of costume since I saw you last and seem demure, you still have that look of defiance in those eyes of yours that I know so well, and they fairly twinkle as you see me coming."

"I'm not your dear," she reminded him. "And you haven't changed much either. Still insulting as ever."

"I didn't mean to insult your sensibilities, Baroness," he said with exaggerated politeness.

"Do not mock me, either. I do not appreciate your humor and - oh phooey! You didn't mean a bit of that, did you? Oh I could just leave -"

"Well, leave then."

"I want to -"

"What's stopping you?"

"Nothing, I -"

Shaking his head, he couldn't help but laugh at her words and actions.

"Stop laughing at me - you could never understand."

"Well then help me to do so," he rose slowly, then offered his hand. "Would you escort a very old gentleman about the boat deck, Baroness?"

She took the offered hand and took a good look at him, finally raising an eyebrow. "I would consent to walk with a _gentleman_, but sir you are not one nor have you ever been."

A smile split his face and he ran a hand through his iron grey hair, still thick and only slightly thinning at the top. "Well, I would generally reply that you are no lady. But that appears to be an inaccurate observation, Baroness. Shall we?"

…

The aromas of smoked mutton and kidney as well as grilled bacon and ham met Ella at the head of the Grand Staircase as she made her way down to brunch. She was late; her mother and sister had not been in their stateroom when she had knocked and the maid, Fredericka, had referred her to her sister-in-law. Not inclined to spend the morning taking the air and gossip with Alicia, Ella decided to walk down to the Dining Saloon unaccompanied. She spied Wade from the corner of her eye, already halfway through his meal and in deep conversation with a gentleman she recognized as Mr. Guggenheim. As the conversation was undoubtedly one of business, Ella decided that it was not for her ears, nor was it her place to interrupt her brother and an associate. Instead, she headed to the sideboard and asked the waiter to seat her at a table for one.

"Certainly. A beverage, Madam?"

"Coffee, please," Ella responded.

As she drew nearer the table he had picked out, she espied Mr. Vansittart and unconsciously walked a little faster, hoping to make it past him unnoticed.

"Mrs. Connell?" he motioned her to come toward him, then, realizing his faux pas, stood up from his own seat and pulled out the chair opposite him. "Would you mind..?"

She was startled, both by his forward manner and by the uncomfortable position in which he had placed her. It would be rude not to take the chair that was offered; however, it would be even more socially graceless for a married woman to sit alone with a gentleman not her husband.

The simple matter of the steward's presence forced her to nod politely and move towards the offered seat. She accepted his hand as she took her seat and settled down to the table.

"Thank you for joining me," he said as the steward departed. "I had hoped to speak to one of you alone and I'm very glad that it was you who first crossed my path."

"One of us? Well, if it is a member of my family you seek, sir, perhaps you would have been better served by seeking out my brother. As you can see, he is sitting just there, at the other table."

"Forgive me," he smiled down at her. "I must confess a certain ulterior motive for seeking you out…"

"Well I'm a married woman, sir-"

"No, no, you misunderstand me - I certainly mean you no offense. I merely meant…that you might be more inclined toward understanding."

Her vanity slightly wounded that he was not propositioning her when she thought that he had been, she slumped in her chair in the most unladylike fashion, elbows on the table.

"Well, perhaps you'd better tell me what you wished to say."

"Ah yes…I'm getting there. Very inarticulately, clearly. How long have you been acquainted with Rhett?"

"How long? Well, I would hardly say that we are acquainted to this day, aside from last night-"

"Well how long have you known him, then?"

"Since I was a baby, I suppose. He was my stepfather for a time - but surely you know that."

He shrugged. "I know very little of his life past and present, by both of our choices."

"Well how did you come to travel together if that is the case?"

"I knew that he was at a particular institution in Paris…the Grand Logis…you've heard of it? No? Well, it costs approximately twenty thousand dollars American per annum and frankly, they were doing little more for him than enabling him to drink himself into a stupor and abuse opium in suicidal proportions."

"Good gracious!"

"I do not exaggerate, that is what I walked into - well, they are of the opinion in France that family members need to take care of their own and as he had no relations to speak of…at least not on paper, you understand…they were content with allowing him to _die with dignity_, they called it."

"But he's so very strong, so cognizant for his age -"

"Indeed he is, and I was not of the mind to allow him such an ignominious end. But that is why I sought your help, Mrs. Connell. I have pressing business matters in Europe which I have neglected and cannot care for him full time. And that, I'm afraid, is what is required at his age. He is in excellent health, but one incident - a fall in the bathtub even…"

"I certainly can empathize, sir, but you must have missed the fact that Mother and he are divorced. Why, it's been a good thirty years since they've laid eyes on one another, if not more."

"I take it that their parting was less than amicable on her part?"

"On both of their parts, I should say. Why, their marriage was always - oh heavens - I should not be telling you this, nor should you be asking. It is not my place, Mr. Vansittart."

"Loyalty to your mother is a noble thing, Mrs. Connell. But I need to know if there is a way I might prevail upon your family to welcome the Prodigal back into the fold."

"The Prodigal…well that's fitting. I declare, I would have given all I owned for him to respond to my wedding invitation. But I never heard a word -"

"I would imagine that he was suffering a worse ruin in Paris. I saw him once, and he was in horrid shape."

"Well, he always was fond of the drink."

Louis laughed a deep bear of a laugh at her comment. "You wouldn't want to continue this conversation out on deck, would you? The clouds have given way to a sunny sky and it really is quite pleasant."

Looking into his dark, familiar eyes and appraising his handsome face, Ella faced the decision of dismissing him and eating breakfast alone or accepting the invitation along with the whispers from the other ladies which would echo behind him.

"They've stopped serving breakfast," he pulled out his watch, "…and it will be a good half hour before lunch is readied."

So she decided to go on with him.

He was a good conversationalist, interested first and foremost in her charitable works and the rumors of her patronage of Monsieur Monet.

"The landscape artist?" Ella giggled. "No, certainly not. I find his work delightful for its color but he does not surpass Monsieur Gleyre in skill."

"What are they calling his work now, plain something?"

"En plein air. And it is not a new technique; in fact, Monsieur Boudin, who was one of Monsieur Monet's mentors, was perfecting it in the late eighteen fifties."

"And have you always been interested in fine art?"

"Fascinated, certainly. But no, I was not so involved in the artists' cause until my younger sister went to study at Le Havre."

"Le Havre? So, she is an artist, herself?"

"Yes, and she's quite good. Her charcoal caricatures are simply exquisite. For my last birthday she did one of my father using only a miniature that Mother had saved for me…it was so very lifelike, I was moved to tears…"

He then asked her to tell him of her father, Mr. Kennedy, which caused her face to light up and her eyes to sparkle like a young girl's.

"I wish I could have known him," she replied softly. "Perhaps you know the story of how he was promised to my Aunt Suellen?"

Louis shook his head. "Rhett and I conversed only infrequently over the years, so I am completely new to your family's history, even as it concerns him. He did, however, tell me that he met you as a small infant."

"That is true, I think. Mother never speaks of my childhood, much. To tell you the truth, I recall very little of life before our arrival in Ireland and I am thankful for that."

"I imagine the strain between Rhett and your mother was difficult for you and your brother to bear?"

"Well, naturally. That and our little sister, Bonnie's, loss. We felt the sting very keenly, although our feelings on the matter were not particularly solicited."

"I'm very sorry."

"Thank you, Mr. Vansittart."

"I do know how deeply Rhett mourned for Bonnie. That I heard for myself and witnessed firsthand. He was in a very dark place for a good deal of time…inconsolable to the point that I become extremely concerned about his decline and grief."

"That does not surprise me. After all, he was so very devoted to her. It seems a wonder that he has survived for so long - dear me, that was crass. I apologize-"

"No, no, please. I too find his longevity a source of amusement. I think he does as well, if you want to know the truth. He is insufferable as far as company, but a wealth of knowledge insofar as his experiences."

"That, I'm sure, is true."

"Is your mother much the same?"

"No. After all, you recall, Mother is seventeen years Rhett's junior. She was just sixteen when the war started, for instance. It was not a good time for her, nor a good decade. She was happy in Ireland, happier than I've ever seen her. You would have enjoyed meeting my stepfather, the Baron, he was just delightful…"

"Auntie Ella! Auntie, come, come!"

Lost in her thought, Ella had not heard the approaching thump-thump sound of a child's boots upon the deck until she was startled in midst of her speech by the sudden sight of Wade's youngest, Louisa, a tenderhearted and loving child of seven years and his wife, Alicia.

"Oh no, Louisa, do not run so!" the child's mother shrilled as she hit Ella hard and fast enough to knock her over.

"I'm sorry, Auntie!" Louisa smiled up at her, her two front teeth missing.

Laughing at her niece's enthusiastic greeting and her sister-in-law's displeasure, Ella patted her mop of brown curls. She alone of the sisters had inherited Wade's curly chestnut hued locks, although all three of them had Hamilton features. Louisa could only be described as cold: her creamy pale skin and white-blonde hair were set off perfectly by her fashionable, ashes of roses gown, a confection of a dress, tight at the waist and adorned with Brussels lace at her throat and on the sleeves. Her broad-brimmed black velvet hat boasted a large rose on the right side, the same shade as the dress.

"Alicia, _dear_ sister-in-law," Ella fought back the temptation to add _dear Dragon_ to her introduction, "may I introduce my new acquaintance, Mr. Vansittart. Recently of London, but born and raised in New Orleans, so certainly a kindred spirit. Alicia is from Baton Rouge, isn't that right?"

Looking less put out than she had a few moments before, Alicia held out a hand for Louis to kiss, which he did gallantly.

She sniffed, "My husband Wade and I would enjoy the pleasure of your company for dinner this evening. We make our home in New York and consequently, rarely are among our own people."

Louis replied, "After a light repast, I should be delighted. I have already met your husband, last evening at Colonel Gracie's table."

"Ah," Alicia smiled her large faux-smile, and, turning to include Ella as well, said, "In that case, we shall see you in the Dining Saloon at seven this evening."

At that, he bowed to Ella, saying, "Thank you for the walk, Mrs. Connell. It was quite stimulating."

"And you, sir," Ella smiled genially. "It was a real pleasure."

Nodding her head as Louis Vansittart made his way across the deck and away from them, Alicia commented, "Good looking devil, isn't he? But completely out of his depth among _decent_ people. You know who his father is, don't you?"

At Ella's affirmative nod, she continued. "Well, Wade has invited him to have dinner with us as well. It should make for an interesting evening. I merely hope that your mother is able to conduct a civil conversation with the man. Ha. Goodness, it's chilly. Come, Louisa, we'll be late for tea with the Allison's."

After polite pleasantries and small talk, Ella bade her niece and sister-in-law good afternoon, parting at the entrance to the First Class cabins. Alicia and Louisa, holding hands and the picture of idyllic mother and child, continued to promenade back toward the Dining Saloon and the Allison's, while Ella, frustrated and lonely, shuffled back toward the Boat Deck, thinking that perhaps she might run into Eva and their Mother…


End file.
